


Tears Couldn't Mar His Beauty

by soft_bucky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Famous Harry, Fluff, French Louis, Hurt and comfort, M/M, One Shot, Ordinary Louis, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, i guess?, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:08:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_bucky/pseuds/soft_bucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry meets this beautiful boy who works behind the counter of one of the many Starbucks that are in France. He's sad and all Harry wants is to cheer him up. Once he has him laughing, he takes a picture and sends a tweet accompanying it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>“Never thought I’d find something that’s brighter than Eiffel Tower at night. But then I found his eyes.” is the outgoing message.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <a href="http://lovexisxequal.tumblr.com/post/80380901859/tears-couldnt-mar-his-beauty-tlumaczenie">~Polish Translation!~</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears Couldn't Mar His Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from thebottomlouislibrary! Bold is English translation. Sorry if what little French used is wrong!

Harry’s friends were nowhere to be found in the large, glamorous hotel that they were staying in.

Well actually Zayn was probably still sleeping, but they all learned not to disturb him from his rest unless it was important. Harry was looking for some sort of entertainment because he was sure that he could **not** stay in his hotel room any longer or else he would die of boredom.

Extremely slowly, the singer pulls on a clean smelling black t-shirt that nicely showed the black ink of the tattoos on his chest and contrasted pleasantly with his temporary Summer tan (he would miss it when it got cold out and he would get pale once more), and a pair of cutoff shorts. He slips on a pair of shoes; taking his time since he was in no rush, flicks his hair out of his eyes once before casually walking out the door; pulling the shiny gold handle behind him to make sure it was shut all the way.

The eighteen year old decides to take the steps for once. Which is a miracle in it’s self actually. Harry Styles was not a stair taker. In fact it took him a lot of physical effort and motivation just to get up in the mornings. It’s hard when your bed is large, plush, and so comfortable that you would rather lie there for the rest of your life and die in it; only to be buried in it at sea possibly. (But him and his bed would have to be covered in plastic just so it won’t get ruined for him in the afterlife.)

After what seems like an eternity but was actually ten minutes, Harry reaches the first floor slightly out of breath. His room was on the seventh floor and he soon regretted his only form of exercise for the day around the fourth flight of stairs. The teenager waves with a small smile to the concierge at the front desk with wispy silver hair and wrinkles etched in his skin who politely smiles back with kindness before directing his attention to his guest once more.

Harry decides to leave through the revolving doors because they are incredibly fun to take and life needs more fun in it in general. Almost instantaneously, he regrets putting on a black shirt because it was absolutely sweltering outside. Even though it was only late morning.

Of course the skies are a azure blue color with cotton ball fluffy, white clouds painted across the sky. It was so picturesque that Harry nearly wanted to laugh. Much different scenery than the usual day in England.

One Direction was on their world tour at the moment and their current stop was France. Becoming fluent in French has definitely become useful in his life as of recently.

Harry did have to say that he loved the country. The food, the famous sights, the art museums, the accents. Oh, definitely the accents. He liked hearing the way the words rolled off of people’s tongues. Plus there wasn’t much that could get better than a cute guy with a French accent.

The male needed a pick me up after walking around on the bustling sidewalks for a while, watching the sun steadily rise in the sky signaling the time passing by a couple hours as he went to stop to see some things he has yet to see and enjoy himself.

So he was incredibly thankful that Starbucks was a chain because he spots one right across the street of the intersection he was waiting at. As soon as he could cross, he walks across the wide, horizontal white lines signaling the area that pedestrians walk; being vaguely reminded of the Abbey Road video for The Beetles although that had nothing to do with anything really. Harry just liked The Beetles and his mind tended to jump around a lot. He was just going to blame it on the time that Gemma told him she dropped him when he was a baby once. Anne didn’t let her hold her little brother after that incident until she was much older.

He steps across the thresh hold of the coffee shop and hears the little silver bell jingle above his head as the door opens and closes behind him. Thank God it was air conditioned because it was Summer and it was too hot outside to not be blowing cool air in establishments/homes.

He could smell the scent of baked goods in the air of the store and spotted large, golden, flaky croissants in the display case up front. And he has not had one of those yet while he was here. A croissant sounds delicious to his empty stomach.

He walks up to the counter of the empty store and there is a beautiful boy looking at his hands that were clasped on the countertop, not even bothering to look up when he hears a customer approach. He has auburn colored hair with caramel sun dyed highlights strewn throughout the seemingly soft strands. His skin was tan and sun kissed; looking as if he had been in the sun for the amount of time that it has been Summer.

“Bonjour, what can I get you?” This beautiful boy asks just loud enough to be heard but still really quiet. There is an easily detected amount of sadness heard in his high, tinkle-y voice when he speaks.

And of course it was a cute guy with a French accent. A weakness and turn on for Harry.

The guy behind the counter looks up to take this customer’s order but stops everything he’s doing for a second because Harry Styles is on the other side of the counter.

Harry thinks he’s the most perfect thing he’s seen despite the way his face looks from the definite crying he has done recently. His eyes were a light blue but Harry didn’t want to describe them with such a simple adjective. He wanted to go with cerulean or like a tropical ocean or cobalt or sapphire. Or anything much better than that. But he doesn’t want to sound pretentious, so he’ll go with light blue. Yeah.

His face was the same color as the rest of his skin but was slightly pink in some spots and not in others; the splotchy-ness a telltale sign of him crying before. And he had these pretty thin pink lips that were left slightly agape when he saw who was in the store he worked at while he was on duty.  To Harry, even tears couldn’t mar his beauty.

“Oh uh, what would you like I mean.” Louis sniffs but seeming more ready to hide his despondency this time.

“To talk to you.” Harry smiles crookedly and Louis seems shocked because Harry. Styles.

“Do you want to sit with me and we can just chat or whatever?” Harry asks expectantly because for some reason, he wanted to cheer this stranger up with his corny jokes or embarrassing stories and see him smile. Plus he wanted to hear him talk with that melodious accent of his again.

“Yeah, alright. Do you er, want anything?” Louis asks because he was going to make a cup of hot chocolate despite the fact that it was boiling hot outside. He always considered himself a strange child. And when Harry Styles asks for a croissant and a cup of tea with six sugars, he thinks that maybe Harry was a strange child too.

By the time he gets done making their drinks, Harry is sitting at a table tucked into the corner of the store, away from windows where there are bookshelves with books that for the most part go untouched by customers. He has his gangly legs curled up on the padded long bench that ends at the opposite wall. There is a hardback copy of _The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat_ in his hands that he seems really into even though he is only a few pages in.

Louis sets their drinks down before going to the front of the store to flip the open sign over to closed and to wipe his face of any left over tears or tear tracks that might have possibly been left over. When he approaches again, Harry smiles up at him. He swings his legs back to the floor to sit up, closes the book, and wraps his ginormous hands (or at least ginormous to Louis because his hands were small) around the white sturdy paper cup, taking a swig from the hole in the lid.

Other than his mild shout of “Oh shit that’s hot!”, he shows no signs of it affecting him.

“Well it’s tea. Of course it’s hot. Espèce d'idiot.” Louis shakes his head slightly at him. ***You idiot.***

“Que je ne parle couramment le Français, vous savez. I just don’t blow on hot things. It’s a principle of mine. Always comes to bite me in the arse but I can’t not do it.” Harry shrugs, this time waiting a bit longer before taking a small sip from his cup. ***I do speak fluent French you know.***

“Oh that’s cool.” Louis says admirably because really he had no clue.

“Can I keep this book by the way? I’ve always wanted to read it. Especially since it’s about psychology which I wanted to major or minor in in uni; I just never had the chance to pick it up and just read. ‘S interesting.” Harry asks, looking up at Louis through his dark lashes that framed his eyes in an almost elegant way.

“Well we’re not supposed to give them out, but I guess I could this one time.” Louis shrugs. There are a lot of things about Harry that he didn’t know. Like how he was fluent in French and was apparently interested in psychology.

As Louis takes a small drink from his hot chocolate, Harry asks “What has you so down?” before placing a piece of the flaky croissant crust in his mouth.

Louis sets his drink down on the table and fiddles with his slender fingers.

“Oh it’s er, it’s nothing.” He mumbles.

“Aw, you should tell me. A pretty face like yours doesn’t deserve to look so down.” Harry says charmingly.

“Well, my boyfriend of a year and a half broke up with me today over text.” And he has to bite down on his lip just so he wouldn’t sniffle or even worse, start up another round of tears again.

Thus starting a conversation that lasts about an hour and almost thirty minutes that has Louis practically crying. Except from laughter from Harry’s stories about him when he was a kid and how he fell asleep in class, waking up with his hand and hair glued to the desk. And how it was super glue.

At the moment, Louis is rosy cheeked from laughing so hard and Harry is satisfied that he has made the nineteen year old he’s come to know as Louis laugh and cheer up once more.

“Smile.” Harry grins; raising his I-phone to take a picture of Louis towards the end of his giggle fest, all happy looking, fringe pushed off to the side with his hand, lips in a wide smile with his white teeth on display, Starbucks cup in the corner of the picture, and mirthful eyes shining brightly. That gives him an idea for a tweet.

He takes the picture and posts it to instagram before going to twitter and saying “Never thought I’d find something that’s brighter than Eiffel Tower at night. But then I found his eyes.” and links the instagram picture at the end of it before hitting the little blue button on his touch screen telling him to send tweet.

And now Harry has finally found the perfect description for Louis’ eyes. They shine like the Eiffel tower at night and are the color of the sky from earlier that day when he first left his hotel. And now he doesn’t really want to laugh at how picturesque the sky had seemed because finally he can formulate the perfect comparison for this beautiful boy’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this at 11:30 Pm and it took me 25 minutes to edit because I wanted to make it better and increase it's lenght. It's now 600 or so words longer. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
